The Beast A DeckerLazarus Novel (31 page)

“Of course.”

“Did you supply the food for Mr. Penny’s animals?”

“Sometimes, but not always. For Tiki, I know he ordered meat from the local grocers. But I ordered the stuff for the snakes and the fish and the insects.”

“Did you supply him with any of the meat for the tiger?”

“Whenever I came, I brought meat with me. I could get it cheaper than Mr. Penny, and he liked to save money wherever he could.”

“He did live frugally.”

“He was generous with the important stuff . . . like the welfare of his pets.”

“Is a tarantula really a pet, Vignette?”

“Yes, it is.” She nodded. “They know their owners. They have personalities.”

“A cobra? A scorpion? A stonefish? A recluse spider? These are pets?”

“Do you have a point?”

Oliver took out a notebook. “In one of Mr. Penny’s apartments, we found a big freezer filled with meat. And that got us thinking. Who supplies the meat for
your
animals? Because you have a lot of animals, and it must be expensive to feed them all.”

She poured hot water into two mugs. In hers, she also dropped a tea bag. She handed the cup to Oliver.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Vignette sat opposite him. “It is expensive. And in addition to food, the animals need supplements. Keeping wild animals healthy in captivity is a tremendous challenge.”

“I can see you have a very well-run organization. Where do you get your food?”

“Sometimes the big chain markets will donate meat past its due date that’s still good. That’s where I’m going as soon as I’m done
with you: from market to market, hoping to pick up items before they’re tossed. It takes a while. I’d like to leave soon.”

“As would I,” Oliver said. “Where else do you get your meat? Surely past-due-date beef wouldn’t suffice for all your animals.”

“You’re right about that. We also buy scraps from the local slaughterhouses—things like heads and hooves, which are usually turned into domestic pet food. We grind it up like hamburger, and it works well for additional feed. Even though it’s not as expensive as regular meat, it adds up. Carnivorous animals eat a lot. We have to buy mice for the snakes. You can get live mice online almost anywhere, but that’s also expensive. Sometimes we buy stuff from suppliers over the border.”

“Mexico?”

“Mexico, Central America. It’s a lot cheaper.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“We buy some produce from down south, although we have to be careful not to bring in insects and pests. It has to be cleared. We’re extra careful who we buy from.”

“Could I have a list of your suppliers?”

“Sure. Could I get it for you in a week? Like I said, I’m in a hurry.”

“Well, this is the story, Vignette. When we went through Mr. Penny’s apartments, we did a thorough job of examining all items in his residences. That meant we went through package after package of frozen animal food. In a murder case you go through everything.”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

Oliver studied her face as he spoke. “Among the normal frozen packages of meat, we found a package of frozen fingers.”

The woman looked stupefied. “Fingers? Like . . .
human
fingers?”

“Yes. About fourteen of them, frozen together and wrapped in butcher paper.”

She stuck her tongue out. “That’s nauseating. Are you sure it wasn’t a joke?”

“Like what kind of a joke?” Oliver asked.

“Like a practical joke. Maybe they weren’t real.”

“We did microscopic analysis. They were real.”

“That’s . . . repulsive!”

“In dealings with your suppliers have you ever come across any human remains?”

“No! Never! And if I did, I wouldn’t ever use them again as suppliers.” She made another face. Then she took a sip of tea. “That’s dis
gust
ing!”

“You seemed to know Mr. Penny better than anyone—”

“I don’t know if that’s true.”

“You were at his apartments on a regular basis.”

“I was with the animals, not him. A lot of the time, the manager let me in and I didn’t even see Mr. Penny.”

“But sometimes you saw Mr. Penny.”

“Only in the context of caring for Tiki. My focus was on the animals, not on him.”

“You didn’t focus on a man that gave you a hundred thousand dollars a year?”

“Of course when I saw him, but it just wasn’t all that often.” She took another sip of tea. “I certainly don’t know anything about human
fingers
.”

Oliver said, “Any idea where he got the human fingers?”

“No! Why would I know?”

“Because if you did know Mr. Penny at all, you’d know he had some odd proclivities.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sexually kinky.”

“Okay, Detective, now this is getting way out of my league.”

“He never came on to you?”

“For sex?”

“Yes. For sex. Because if you two did have something going, now’s the time to fess up. It’s all going to come out.”

She stared at him. “You do know that he was like eighty-nine.”

“It didn’t seem to stop him. He seemed to be . . . serviced on a regular basis.”

“Serviced? Like with
whores
?” When Oliver shrugged, she said, “I am not a
whore
!”

“Of course not. I was just asking if you and he were . . . intimate?”

“
No! Never!
” Then she broke into laughter. “Although if I woulda known that he paid money for it, I might have been willing.” She grinned. “I’m
kidding,
you know.”

Oliver wondered if she was joking. The one consistency about Vignette was her money hungry appetite. But it did seem to be all about the animals with her. “So you don’t know anything about the packet of fingers.”

“The answer is still the same. I don’t know a thing about human fingers.” Vignette stared at him. “What does that mean . . . when you find human parts like that?”

“It could mean a lot of things.” Oliver smiled and folded his notebook. “None of the outcomes points to something good.”

DECKER LEANED BACK
in his desk chair, feeling a monster headache coming on. It was a little after three. Forest Lawn was about a half hour away without traffic, but at this hour, he’d have to allow for more time. He looked at his detectives, specifically Oliver. “So you believe Vignette Garrison?”

“I believe her when she said she didn’t have anything to do with the human remains. But I do think the fingers speak volumes about Hobart Penny.”

“Serial killer,” Decker said. “It’s the most parsimonious explanation for the different fingers belonging to different people.”

“I can understand keeping fingers as trophies,” Marge said. “I’m just wondering how an old man like him would get rid of bodies.”

“They could be from a long time ago,” Decker said.

“So you don’t think they’re recent.”

“Don’t know. I mean how recent is recent? If they’re very recent, he definitely had help.”

“What about the apartment manager?” Oliver turned to Decker.
“He was letting hookers in and out of the apartment. Maybe he also helped dispose of them.”

Decker said, “I see Paxton more sneak thief than homicidal maniac.”

“Maybe Paxton didn’t actually kill them. Maybe he just got rid of them.”

“We can ask him. He’s agreed to come in for a polygraph,” Decker said. “Give me a list of questions and I’ll take it to the examiner.”

Marge said, “What did you find out from the shrink?”

“That Penny was probably always odd and being rich or poor had nothing to do with it. He liked dominance, with humans at first, but then after a while it wasn’t enough. So he bought wild, dangerous animals and took dominance to the next level. He probably got off sexually by scaring women using animals as lethal weapons. And he also thinks that the fingers point to a serial killer.”

“A unanimous diagnosis,” Oliver stated flatly.

“I still don’t see Penny killing women in that apartment complex,” Marge said. “Too small a space, the walls are too thin, too much activity. And he never left the place.”

“What about the apartment below him?” Oliver asked.

“It was sprayed with luminol. Lots of animal blood but human not so much.”

“Animal sacrifices?” Oliver asked.

“Could be,” Decker said.

Marge said, “If we’re assuming that the fingers were trophies of conquests of his past, it means he murdered the women when he was younger.” She turned to Decker. “Do we have any match for the prints?”

“Not yet. This is the problem. Once the fingers were defrosted, the skin became loose and distorted: we lost some of those distinctive whorls and ridges. But we’re still working on it.” Decker thought a moment. “Let’s look in our cold case files. Let’s find out if we have some bodies in the data bank that are missing digits.”

Marge said, “The guy, in his later years, was a shut-in. He obviously didn’t go out and hunt victims. They came to him. How’d he get them?”

Oliver said, “Don’t know the answers to your questions, but let’s look at what we do have. We have two hookers who were scared enough to bolt overnight.”

“They probably bolted because they killed Penny,” Marge said.

Oliver said, “And they killed him because he probably threatened to kill them.”

“Except now we have a very, very old man who was attempting to kill two younger women at the same time,” Marge said. “I can see Penny as a serial killer. He had a package of frozen fingers. I’m just trying to figure out the logistics.”

Decker said, “If he threatened the hookers from Casey’s Massage and that’s why they whacked him, maybe he had threatened other hookers in the past.” He took two Advil dry mouthed and then stood up. He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. “Go out and talk to the ladies of the evening. I’ve got a funeral to catch.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

T
HE SERVICE WAS
done graveside at a cemetery five miles away from where Hobart Penny lived and died, in the green lawns and rolling foothills of the Santa Susana Mountains. The sun was bright and low on the horizon, tawny rays splashing the ground, providing some needed warmth. The temperature was cool, but not as frosty as the gathering. No one had been forced to come, but it was clear that the family’s appearance was obligatory. Guests included Darius Penny, Graciela Johannesbourgh, and Sabrina Talbot, and a surprise appearance by Vignette Garrison. There was a rent-a-preacher who uttered a few utilitarian prayers. And then the family stared silently as the casket was lowered into the ground.

Nice casket, Decker noticed: polished wood and brass handles. Either Penny would have approved of the august status or he would have disapproved of the unnecessary expense.

Vignette Garrison sidled up to Decker. She wore a navy blazer over a blue blouse, dark wash denims, and sneakers. Her face was drawn in an appropriate somber expression. “Hi.”

Decker said, “Nice of you to come.”

“I could say the same for you. Do you always attend the funerals of your homicide victims?”

“I try.”

“Do you like . . . look around to get clues and like to see who came and whatnot?”

“No, I come to funerals to pay my respects to those murdered under my watch.” He stared straight ahead, watching the family. “And why are you here?”

“After all that Mr. Penny did for the sanctuary, I needed to be here.”

“How’d you find out about the service?”

“Mr. Penny . . . the young Mr. Penny . . . well, he’s not so young . . . I asked him where it was and he told me.” Sun was streaming onto her face. She tented her eyes with her hand, as if giving Penny a final salute. “Who are the women?”

“The very tall one is Mr. Penny’s second wife—an ex-wife—and the other one is Mr. Penny’s daughter.”

“Really? They look the same age.”

“Sometimes it works that way, Vignette.” Decker stared at the grave site. “My detectives told me that you didn’t know anything about the fingers.”

“God, no. Do we have to talk about this now?”

“When you found out about the fingers, did you suddenly see Mr. Penny in a different light?”

“What do you mean?”

“Collecting body parts . . . that’s not a normal thing.” When Vignette was quiet, Decker said, “Any idea where he got the fingers?”

“I already told your people that I don’t have the faintest idea.”

“Are you surprised that Mr. Penny may be part animal himself—and I don’t mean that in a good way.”

“I’m shocked. He was always so gentle with the animals. He never was weird with me, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Never came on to you?”

“No. I already told your other detectives that.”

“Never offered you money for sex?”

“No. Why are you picking on poor Mr. Penny?”

“I’m not, Vignette. I’m just trying to find out who he really was.” Silently, they both watched as workers began to shovel dirt on top of the casket. Then Decker said, “The fingers came from somewhere.”

“I don’t know anything about that.”

“Vignette, would you be willing to come into the station and take a polygraph about your knowledge of Mr. Penny’s murder?”

“Polygraph? That’s like a lie detector test?”

“Yes.”

“I told you I don’t know a thing about Mr. Penny’s murder.”

“That’s why I’m assuming you’d have no problem with taking a polygraph.”

She licked her lips. “Do I have to do it to get the money?”

“You can’t get any money until you’re cleared as a suspect.”

“Why should I be a suspect?”

“Are you willing to do it or not?”

Vignette made a point of sighing. “When?”

“I’ll set something up. Would tomorrow work if I can swing it? The sooner you do it, the sooner I stop bothering you.”

“Has to be next week. How about next Monday? But only if you do me a favor.”

“The will?”

“We can really use the money.”

“These things can’t be rushed, Vignette, but I’ll do what I can. Nice that you came, though. Really. I mean that.” Decker wandered off and joined the family. Graciela was dressed in a red suit and black boots. Darius had on a charcoal suit, white shirt, and blue tie. Sabrina wore a hunter green knit dress and a black shawl. The younger Penny said, “Any reason why she’s here?”